A Moment In His Presence
by evercharmer
Summary: A short little story involving Haskill and Sheogorath, fairly dark tones throughout. I wrote it sometime last month to work on descriptive details, and I've finally gotten a chance to post it. I know this isn't a good summary, but you just have to read it


Okay, so, this is written in the time period of Morrowind, but it is more of an Oblivion fan-fiction because of the involved characters. It was written in hopes that I could get better in describing things, simply by describing nearly everything I could. The story is from Haskill's point of view, just so that nobody gets confused.  
I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope someone enjoys reading it!

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I picked up the silver rimmed ebony tray with silver cups of tea balanced upon it and made my way to the Madgod's chambers. He had summoned me, in the middle of the night, and asked me to fetch him some tea, and some chocolate. It was set on a silver plate next to the cups of tea. Turning down another corner in the hallway, I arrived at the entrance to his room. I rapped on the door three times and the Madgod called,

"Is that you, Haskill? Come in." As I opened the door, I examined the room. It was dark, there were only four candles in the room at the moment, the flames flickering a soft blue. The walls were the colour of red wine. The sheets on the double bed were bade of fine blue silks. The backboard and the posts on the bed were well-polished mahogany, as well as the chest of drawers across from the bed, and the frame of the oval mirror above it. The mirror was used by Sheogorath to peer into the realms of the Shivering Isles to see whatever, whenever he may wish it so. To all else it was but a simple mirror. I had every inch of the room committed to memory.

I sat on the edge of the bed and balanced the tray next to me as I began to speak to Him,

"I brought what you asked–" I was cut off as Sheogorath pulled me to his chest, and the tray clattered to white tile floor. The sheets and blankets pooled around my black suit, as if I was being consumed by a sea of blue silks. The Madgod's voice was raspy in my ear as he whispered,

"Haskill, my beautiful child. So beautiful..." His beard was lightly scratching at my jawline, His breath falling on my cheek. Sheogorath hesitated for a moment, then turned me to face Him. My eyes were wide open, and I could feel my face heating up at the provocative position I was now in. Sheogorath's usual slicked back hair was falling in His face, His normal grin blocked by a stoical expression.

His chest began heaving, and for a moment He looked nervous. He tugged at the collar of my suit, and it crumpled in His grasp, like the scarlet petals of a rose crumple under the grasp of the sun's heat. He began to fiddle with the clasp in the back of the suit, but gave up in frustration. Instead, He chose to tear at the black material. The tearing provoked the slightest of tiny screams from the cloth, and bits of it fell to the ground. Sheogorath's voice broke the silence,

"I remember when you first made your offering at one of My shrines. You figured that I would be the only Daedric Prince to listen to your request. Offered your eternal servitude for a better perception of learning. You wanted to learn in... A more thought provoking environment. You were but twenty-three at the time."

Sheogorath looked down at me and saw that he had torn off the suit completely. He began raking his fingers along my bare skin, and I shuddered at the touch. He pulled me even closer to his chest and cried out,

"What is it I have done? Are you frightened of me? Do... Do you wish me to stop?" His hands halted, and the room went silent. I believe he was waiting for me to speak. I was bewildered, and unable to speak. He filled the silence, "What have I done now?" It came out as a whisper.

He spoke again, this time in a voice much too calm and leveled for him,

"I apologize." He stood, and walked to the chest of drawers. As he shuffled through it, He continued in that dreadful voice, "You may go if you like. That was very inappropriate of me."

He pulled out a deep purple robe and handed it to me. I took it in my grasp. I wanted to stay, but I was mortified. This side of Sheogorath frightened me beyond all claim to reason.

"Please leave." He spoke in that voice again. I quickly put on the robe and slipped out the door without another word.

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Well, review and critique please.Also, I have plans for another story, set in the times of Oblivion. A story involving a couple of Daedric Princes and our favorite false god. So anybody here is allowed to harass me to get working on that.  
Trust me, it's gonna be cool. :D


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